Golly What A Day
by White Mizerable
Summary: King Richard has journeyed off on a Crusade, leaving his greedy brother Francis on the throne. There is only one person who can stop the prince's tyranny- the carefree young outlaw, Alfred Jones. Disney's Robin Hood, USUK version. Rating may go up later.
1. Chapter 1

Sherwood Forest. A beautiful place, draped in thick greenery, built of strong, healthy trunks and branches, and full of the sweet blossoms of spring. There were birds singing in the trees, the sky was free of any clouds, the air was warm, but not muggy. All in all, it was the perfect morning to go strolling through the woods.

Francis- or, well, Prince Francis, if you wanted to be proper about it- was missing all of it. Sprawled gracefully across the seat of his enclosed carriage, with curtains drawn over each of the windows, he was focused solely on the chest of gold in front of him. He twirled a coin between his fingers, trying to ignore the way his crown slipped down over his forehead slightly. The gold glittered in his hand, and he smiled down at it. It truly was a lovely thing. Those peasants couldn't understand its beauty, couldn't appreciate gold like he could. He ran his other hand lovingly across the chest. It was so-

The sharp tap on the covered window jolted him out of his trance. "What?" he snapped, dropping the coin back amongst its brothers in the chest. He hadn't even noticed that the carriage had stopped.

"There are two women by the road, sire," the strangely childish voice of the Sheriff of Nottingham replied. "They seem to be gypsies, and they say they have items to trade."

Francis snorted. "Gypsies. Nothing they might have could possibly be of any interest to me. Tell them to-" He stopped abruptly, then flung the door open, nearly slamming it into Ivan's face. "Do they do fortunes? I'm in the mood for having my fortune told."

"Dearie me, is that His Royal Highness I hear?" A high-pitched cackle drew Francis' attention to the two women standing a few meters behind Ivan. One of them was shorter and seemingly younger, with a long scarf holding her hair back from her dark eyes. The other, the one who had spoken, was doubled over and leaning heavily on a gnarled walking stick. Her face was shadowed by the rags wrapped around her head, but Francis could tell that her eyes weren't focused on him- she was blind.

He nodded, even though he knew she couldn't see. After a moment of silence, Ivan added, "Yes, you are talking to His Majesty."

The old woman cackled again and waved her finger in the vague direction of the younger gypsy. "I told you we'd meet someone important today, I did! My fortunes are never wrong!"

"Yes, yes, Grandmother, you did," the young woman soothed, laying her hands on the older gypsy's shoulders. She blinked those dark eyes up at Francis, and he was struck by how androgynous her face was. Why, if she wasn't dressed in skirts and if her voice was any less feminine, he wouldn't have known her gender. "She is very good at palm reading and tarot cards, Your Highness. I do not think she has ever been wrong."

"Really." Francis raised his eyebrow, intrigued. He didn't believe it, of course, but to have a blind fortuneteller read his future… It would be interesting. "Gypsy, I would like you to read my fortune."

"Me, read the fortune of His Royal Highness?" The old woman placed a hand over her heart. "Why, I'd be honored." She hobbled forward, her feet shuffling across the ground beneath her skirts. Ivan caught her arm and redirected her steps when she started off the wrong way. She patted his elbow in thanks before feeling her way to the carriage door.

Francis watched the old gypsy carefully climb into his carriage, not offering any help, before turning to the younger woman. "I would like to speak with the fortuneteller alone. The Sheriff will stay with you out here."

The young woman curtsied. "Of course, Your Highness." She cast a distrustful glance at Ivan, but said nothing more.

Slamming the carriage door shut behind him, Francis arranged himself carefully across the seat and inspected the woman perched across from him. A tuft of hair was hanging down from under her rags now, and though he couldn't be sure in the darkness of the carriage, he thought it might be blonde. Odd, for such an old woman to still have blonde hair, but he was the prince, and he didn't have time to dwell on pointless things like the hair color of gypsies. "Well?" he demanded impatiently. "Are you going to read my fortune or not?"

The old woman inclined her head respectfully. "Begging your pardon, Your Highness, but I need to feel your hand to tell your future." She held out her own hand, in slightly the wrong direction.

Francis let out an annoyed sigh, reaching out to place his hand on her palm. His many rings glinted in the dim light. The woman's hand felt rather smooth and unwrinkled for her age, but before Francis could think further on the matter, the gypsy had grabbed his hand and flipped it over in order to run her fingers over his palm.

"Hmm, hmm, Prince Francis, that's you," the old woman muttered. "The fourth son, yes, of the old King, bless his soul. Your two eldest brothers died… strange circumstances, hmm. You journeyed over from France and took the throne when your brother Richard left on a Crusade. Interesting stroke of luck for you, there-"

"Gypsy, my brother is far away. Do not dare mention his name in my presence again," Francis hissed.

The gypsy bowed her head again. "No offense meant, Your Majesty. Just saying what I find." Her fingers swept across his palm again, moving upwards towards his fingers. "Hmm, you're a very rich man, Your Highness, very rich indeed. Whole rooms full of gold."

Francis allowed his eyes to wander down to the open chest on the floor between them. The beautiful shimmer of gold brought a smile to his lips. Oh, yes, he was rich. "And?"

"Your future… hmm. Hmm. Very interesting." The gypsy woman paused, her fingers hovering over his palm. "It looks like there's a lovely little surprise waiting for you! Something very good."

"A surprise?" Francis leaned forward, tearing his eyes off his gold to stare at the gypsy's shadowed face. "What kind of surprise?"

"I can't quite tell yet… Let me see. It's a very good surprise, believe me. I'm sure you'll enjoy it."

"How far away is it? A year? A month?"

"Why, it's right up ahead! It could be happening any moment now!"

"Any moment!" Francis yanked his hand away from hers, jumping up to tear the curtains open, as if he expected the surprise to be standing there staring inside. All he saw was empty road. Ivan and the other gypsy woman must have moved out of his range of sight. He frowned, though he could still feel the excitement bubbling up inside him. "This surprise, does it have anything to do with my riches?" he asked without turning around, eyes watching the road.

Behind him, the gypsy chuckled. Except it didn't quite sound like the cackle he had heard before. It was deeper, for one thing, in a very masculine way, and it certainly didn't sound old. In fact, it was almost like-

"Oh, believe me, Your Royal Phoniness, it has a whole lot to do with your riches."

Francis whirled around. The gypsy had thrown off the rags covering her body, and now she wasn't a 'she' at all. Instead, there was a young man sprawled carelessly across the carriage seat, long legs propped up against the wall. His hair was as brilliant as gold, his sparkling eyes were as blue as the sky, and that toothy grin was plastered on 'Wanted' signs all over the country. "Alfred Jones!"

Alfred's grin widened. "Oh, please, no need to get yourself all worked up over me. I'm not even close to being as important as you, Prince Francis the Cheat."

"You- You-" Francis stared at him a moment longer, trembling with rage, before he turned and flung the door open. "Ivan! Ivan!"

"Don't bother," Alfred said airily from behind him. "Kiku has already taken care of the Sheriff."

"Jones," Francis growled, obviously struggling to maintain his composure. He was well known for running from battle, after all, and his instinct to flee was threatening to overpower his legs. "What do you want from me?"

Alfred clapped a hand to his chest, slumping back as though wounded. "Want from you? What's the world coming to, when a man can't just stop by to say hello?" He let out a heavy sigh and pulled himself to his feet, stretching as much as he could in the cramped space. "Ouch, bending over like that really takes its toll on your back."

Francis stepped backwards out of the carriage as gracefully as he could. He'd never been this close to the infamous outlaw before, and he'd never realized that Alfred was taller than him. "Jones," he said as forcefully as possible, "I order you to leave this area immediately!"

"Alright, I'll take my leave." Alfred leaped out of the carriage, landing gracefully on his feet and bowing low. "It was wonderful talking to you, Prince Fake- oops, sorry, slip of the tongue. I meant Francis, of course." He whistled loudly, and within moments the young gypsy woman- who wasn't really a woman either, Francis thought bitterly- appeared by his side. "Ready to go, Kiku?"

"I am." The shorter man nodded briefly, a smile flitting across his lips.

"Well then, Francis, I guess we'll be on our way. Farewell for now!" Alfred gave one more mocking bow before turning away and nearly skipping off into the foliage lining the road. He paused for a second, right as he was about to vanish into the trees. "Oh, Francis, have I ever told you how much I like your taste in jewelry?"

"What?"

Grinning, Alfred held up one hand. There, glimmering against his tanned skin, were several very familiar rings. Francis blinked at them, then down at his own hand. His fingers were devoid of any kind of jewelry. But he hadn't even felt Alfred take them. How…?

"They look pretty good on my fingers, don't they?" Alfred inspected his hand, snickering. "I bet they'd look even better on the hand of a poor housewife, though. No, I know they'll look better on some poor woman's hand." His grin settled into something softer as he looked down at the rings. He slipped them into a pouch hanging from his belt, patting it fondly. "Thank you for the gift, Your Phoniness. I'll be sure to tell the women who I got these beautiful gems from."

Before Francis could say a word, Alfred was gone, disappearing into the undergrowth of Sherwood. He couldn't even hear the outlaw's footsteps. Kiku hung back a moment longer to cast a small smile in the prince's direction. "You might want to fetch a knife, Your Highness. Your Sheriff is rather tied up." And then he was gone as well.

Francis stood there for several long minutes, unable to look away from the place where the outlaws had vanished. When he finally managed to move his feet, he didn't immediately go to look for Ivan. The man had gotten himself into whatever tangle he was in- honestly, Kiku's head barely reached Ivan's chest- and he could deal with it himself for a while. Francis stalked back over to his carriage, flinging himself inside and practically collapsing onto his seat. He rubbed at his forehead with the palm of his hand. Damn those outlaws. Damn them and their insistence on stealing from him and his nobles. Damn them for-

He froze. Slowly, very slowly, his gaze moved down to the chest on the floor of the carriage. The lid was closed. Swallowing down his sudden anxiety, he bent down to carefully lift the lid.

The chest was empty.

Birds took flight at the volume of his roar. "Alfred Jones!"

Sherwood Forest rang with the sound of the answering laughter.

* * *

A/N- Merry Christmas/Chanukah/Kwanza/Yule/etc, unaccompanied_g! I hope you liked this. For your final prompt, the fairytale one, it seemed like you were going with Disney films, so I tried to do one that no one else has done before (as far as I know, and I might be wrong).

For anyone who doesn't understand, this is the USUK version of Disney's Robin Hood, with some changes thrown in here and there from my own artistic license. Arthur hasn't appeared yet, but I hope you can figure out who he'll be! Oh, and Francis is intentionally somewhat OOC. He needs to be in order to fit the role of Prince John, and I do so enjoy having him to use for a punching bag like this. 3

Again, Happy Holidays! Hope you enjoyed! The next chapters should come out pretty quick- this is fun and easy to write.


	2. Chapter 2

Alfred held his finger to his lips, blue eyes narrowed as he peered down the darkened streets of Nottingham. After a moment, he dashed across the read, Kiku following closely behind him. Another quick look around confirmed that the streets were still empty, but both of them knew that they wouldn't be for long- after their little scuffle with the prince that morning, Ivan was sure to be skulking around somewhere nearby.

As Alfred kept a wary eye on the moonlit road, Kiku reached out to knock once, sharply but quietly, on the wooden door of the building in front of them. There was silence for a second, and then the sound of the door creaking open very, very slightly. "Who is it?" a female voice asked.

"It's us, Elizaveta," Alfred replied, stepping forward and pulling down his hood.

The woman gasped and pulled the door open all the way, ushering both men inside. She leaned out into the street, looking both ways, before shutting the door with a quiet thud. "Alfred Jones," she said imperiously as she turned to face them. "The whole town's been buzzing about your exploits this morning."

"It was pretty great, wasn't it?" Alfred shared a quick smile with Kiku, striding over to the hearth and warming his hands above the low fire.

Elizaveta rolled her eyes, but a little grin still managed to quirk her lips. She bustled over to her cabinets, pulling out a pan and a few utensils. This certainly wasn't the first time Alfred and Kiku had dropped by in the middle of the night. "You're going to get yourself hung one day, Alfred."

He chuckled. "Only if they can catch me first."

"You-"

"Elizaveta?"

All three of them turned to look at the source of the soft voice. A young girl was standing at the foot of the old staircase, a ragged pillow clutched to her chest. She rubbed her eyes sleepily, obviously not completely awake yet. "Who knocked on the door?"

"Angelique!" Alfred laughed, spreading his arms wide. "Don't tell me you forgot what I look like already!"

The girl stared at him in sleepy confusion for a moment, and then she gasped, her lips sliding up into a joyful smile. "Alfred!" The pillow fell to the floor, forgotten, as she bolted across the room and into his arms. Alfred grabbed her around the waist and lifted her into the air, spinning around in a circle before setting her back down again. She immediately ran over to Kiku, throwing her arms around him as he patted her head.

"Quiet, Angelique, or you'll wake up the whole town!" Elizaveta scolded, hands on her hips.

Angelique pouted at her. "But Alfred's back!"

"Yes, and Alfred is going to get in trouble if people find out he's here." Elizaveta gave her a stern look, though there was sparkle in her eyes that betrayed her humor. "Particularly if a little loudmouthed girl shouts his name out to everyone."

"Oh!" Looking horrified, Angelique immediately shut her mouth, pressing her hands over it. She gave Alfred a grim nod, dashing away from Kiku towards the stairs. Right before she disappeared, she pulled her hands away long enough to whisper loudly, "Raivis and Lili are going to want to see you, too!"

"Wait, don't wake them up!" Elizaveta called after her, but Angelique was already gone. The woman shook her head, smiling gently. "I suppose they'll be down in minute. I'll make you two a quick stew before you head back out."

Alfred shook his head, gently grabbing her wrists to stop her from picking up her pan. "We don't need it. Save it for yourself and the children."

"It's not a hassle, really." Elizaveta pushed his hands away. "We're not as bad off as we could be. I can spare a little meat and broth for two old friends-"

"Elizaveta." Alfred's voice was soft but firm, his gaze steely. "Angelique is really thin. You're really thin. I have no doubt that Raivis and Lili are thin, and probably Roderich as well. You don't have meat or broth to spare on a pair of outlaws."

"I…" Elizaveta let her eyes slip shut, sighing. "You're right. Prince Francis and his taxes have taken a lot out of us. We barely make enough to pay them, even with Roderich and my earnings combined. Meals are always small. Even the coins you bring now and again don't do much, as kind as it is."

"You're a remarkable woman, Ms. Elizaveta," Kiku said quietly. "These children are not even yours."

"If I don't take care of them, who will?" She sighed again, before resolutely straightening her back and staring both men down. "But it won't do anyone any good complaining about it like this, now will it? And don't you say a word to the children about this."

"Of course." Alfred smiled at her. "Before they come down, though, I have something for you." He dug into the pouch at his side, and, after a minute of searching, pulled out a glittering golden ring studded with gems. "A lovely gift for a lovely lady."

"Alfred Jones!" Elizaveta propped her hands on her hips, laughter bubbling out of her lips even as she tried to look shocked. "Don't tell me that's the Prince's ring?"

"Well, it's definitely not his ring anymore," Alfred replied with a chuckle. He bowed down with a flourish and grabbed her hand, sliding the ring onto her finger. "My lady," he said regally.

Several voices gasped behind him, and he turned around to see three small children staring from the staircase. "Is Elizaveta a princess now?" Angelique asked eagerly.

"Oh, no, not just a princess!" Alfred jumped up onto the chair by the fireplace, one hand over his heart as the other gestured at Elizaveta. "She's far more important than that. Elizaveta is a queen!"

The blonde girl peeking out from behind Angelique let out a squeak of delight. "A queen?"

"That's right, a queen!" Alfred crouched down on his chair, crooking his finger to beckon the three children closer. Angelique scampered over to him immediately and sat on the ground by the chair. Lili and Raivis followed more slowly. "You know what that means, don't you?" Alfred asked after they were all seated. When they shook their heads, he grinned down at them. "It means you little ones are princesses and princes!"

"A princess!" exclaimed Lili, clapping her hands.

"Yes, a princess!" He paused, turning his gaze to Raivis, who didn't seem as excited as the girls. "What's wrong? You don't want to be a prince?"

The boy blushed and ducked his head. "W-well, isn't Francis a prince? I d-don't want to be a prince l-like him."

"Francis? Francis isn't a prince. Francis is… Francis is a frog!"

"A frog?"

"Exactly. You know, he's…"

Elizaveta smiled from where she was still standing at the kitchen cabinet. "You're good people, the two of you," she murmured to Kiku.

He smiled back. "The wanted posters say otherwise."

"The wanted posters don't matter. That's just what Francis thinks. What really matters is that you two are out there, risking your lives for the rest of us. I don't know what we would do without you." Elizaveta brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "You give us hope, you know. The children especially."

Kiku shook his head. "We are simply doing what needs to be done."

"Maybe." She stared at the man perched dramatically on the chair, arms gesturing wildly as his voice boomed out over the heads of his awestruck audience. "But someday, you'll be called heroes."

* * *

A/N- You know, I never noticed quite how disjointed a narrative Disney's Robin Hood is, until I started trying to recreate it. The story jumps from place to place, setting up characters and scenes that continue the plot, but wouldn't make for a well-written novel. So, in other words, I'm going to try to connect everything. Not perfectly, of course, because there is something fun about the wildness of the movie, but just enough to make it a better read.

This chapter is kind of random, and I apologize. I love the children in the movie, but they're really not all that important in the grand scheme of things. I couldn't just leave them out, but since they'll only appear once or twice from here on out, they don't really need as much. I used them to try to get the plot going, I guess. Hope you don't mind the implied RoderichxElizaveta.

Anyway, enough with me rambling. This is the second chapter of the Secret Santa fic for unaccompanied_g, and I hope you enjoyed it as much as the first! I love your comments, favorites, and alerts. Next chapter should be up within the week!


	3. Chapter 3

The slam of the heavy wooden door rang through the stone halls of Nottingham Castle. Arthur paused in his embroidery for a moment, scowling out the window. "It seems Francis has returned." Behind him, Hong let out a noncommittal sound and went on with his servant duties, which meant preparing a bath at the moment. Arthur took the noise as an agreement and let out a huff of annoyance, going back to his embroidery and counting down the seconds.

Five…four…three…two…one…

The door to his chambers burst open, revealing a furious Francis. Before the prince could open his mouth, Arthur shot him a scathing glare. "Hello, Francis."

Francis frowned. "That is not how a man addresses his king."

"Oh, my mistake," Arthur replied, rolling his eyes. "Hello, Your Royal Highness, Prince Francis. Now what do you want?"

"That's not- Never mind." Francis crossed his arms, and Arthur noticed that his fingers were strangely bare of rings. "I only came to tell you that your old friend paid me a visit in the woods yesterday."

Arthur froze, his hands in the middle of making a stitch. "My old friend?" he murmured, eyes glazing over as he looked back into his past. "You know I have not seen him since we were children. We weren't even real friends back then. We are certainly not friends now." It was true. And if his needle stabbed a little more harshly than needed through the fabric, it didn't mean anything.

Francis either didn't notice the sudden jerkiness of Arthur's movements or didn't care, for his gaze turned to the open window. "So you say." Silence reigned between them for several minutes, in which Hong moved unhurriedly about the room. Finally, Francis muttered, "You knew him as a child. A child. I find it hard to imagine that bandit as any kind of innocent boy."

"Innocent?" Arthur chuckled. "I said he was young, not that he was innocent. Alfred Jones was always a pest." He paused, setting his embroidery down on his lap. "Most of the time, anyway. Sometimes he could be so incredibly sweet… But that was rare. He was a lord in those days, you know- the son of the Duke of Lincolnshire. He had everything to look forward to." He stared down at his hands. "And yet he gave it all up to become a thief, a bandit." His hands clenched. "An outlaw."

"For a man who hasn't seen him in years, you seem rather attached to this outlaw." Francis' lips curled in a sneer. "How can I be sure that you're not lying to me about this?"

Arthur shook his head, returning from the past, and glared at Francis. "Why would I bother taking the time to lie to you? You're not worth the effort." He shifted his gaze pointedly back to his embroidery. Hong let out a muted cough. The atmosphere grew noticeably tenser.

Francis hovered by the doorway for a few seconds longer, eyes flicking back and forth between both men in the room. "If anything else happens in Nottingham- if that bandit shows his face anywhere nearby- the blame falls on you, Sir Kirkland," he gritted. "I suggest you learn where your loyalties lie."

Arthur was on his feet immediately, and the embroidery hoop shattered as it struck the stone wall beside Francis' head. Green eyes burned with the glare that had made the Duke of Nottinghamshire a legend among his fellow nobles. "I know where my loyalties lie, Francis," he snarled. "Now get out."

"You cannot-"

"Get out."

"Arthur, you are-"

"I said get out!"

Francis' nerve broke, and he fled the room, his expensive boots clattering down the hallway. It was only once the echoes began to fade away that Arthur allowed himself to fall back into his seat, pressing his hands against his face. He didn't even spare a glance at his ruined embroidery. "What am I supposed to do?" he muttered.

"What do you want to do?" asked Hong from behind him, gently pushing him up out of his chair and towards the tub of steaming water.

"What do I want…?" Arthur chuckled humorlessly as he pulled his tunic up over his head, followed by his undershirt. "I want to do what that ridiculous Alfred Jones is up to. I want to- to trump Francis again and again, until he leaves my poor county alone. But…"

Hong nodded. "But."

"Exactly," mumbled Arthur, wincing when his bare foot touched the water. "Alfred turned his back on the people who needed him in order to pursue the life of an outlaw. He might help others now, but he betrayed those who he swore to protect." His eyebrows furrowed as he sank into the tub, the hot water reaching up to his shoulder blades. "I am not like him. I can't simply abandon Nottinghamshire and its people. Francis would… I don't even want to imagine what Francis would do to them."

Hong hummed lightly, picking up the clothes Arthur had shed and slinging them over his arm. He moved quickly and quietly into the adjacent room, and left Arthur alone with his thoughts.

The bath water was warm and soothing, and though Arthur's muscles seemed insistent upon staying tense, it worked away at all of them until the man was completely relaxed. He let his eyes slip closed. Hong would be back soon to lay out soap and a set of clean clothes. Nothing too fancy, as he had no intention of joining Francis in the dining hall for tea- even if it was Arthur's dining hall to begin with.

Once Hong returned, Arthur was quick to finish his bath. The water was slowly cooling down, and he was once again feeling fresh and clean. He had no real plans for the rest of the afternoon and evening, not with that Sheriff prowling around. Francis, not Arthur, had hired Ivan and though the duke would have thrown him out in a heartbeat, apparently Ivan only needed to listen to Francis' orders. And now Ivan's task seemed to be tailing Arthur whenever he left the castle, following him from place to place, without even trying to be subtle about it. This meant that less people were willing to speak with Arthur, which gave him less incentive to journey into the town, much to his disappointment. In fact, he hadn't left the castle gardens in… almost three weeks. Just thinking about it made his heart sink.

Nevertheless, Arthur refused to let Francis' ever tightening control of himself and his county discourage him. He dressed himself in the clean clothes Hong offered him and marched stubbornly over to the chest containing his embroidery and sewing materials- a feminine hobby, certainly, but what else did he have to do if he was going to be stuck inside all the time? He pulled out another embroidery hoop and a blank piece of fabric, along with a needle and a spool of thread.

"Hong," he said quietly as he made his way back over to the seat by the window, "please go down to the kitchens and have them send my tea up here."

"You don't want to eat with Francis." It wasn't a question.

Arthur snorted. "I would rather eat with the pigs in the stable yard." He paused. "Actually, that was cruel to the pigs. They certainly don't deserve to fall into the same category as Francis."

Hong let out a sound that might have been laughter, had it been anyone else. With a very slight bow, he disappeared down the hallway, and Arthur settled into his embroidery.

The afternoon seemed to pass by within the blink of an eye. Arthur could barely remember Hong returning with his tea, not could he recall drinking it. By the time he looked out the window, the sky was beginning to darken with the oncoming dusk. He stretched out his arms, surprised by how tense his muscles were, and maneuvered himself to his feet. Hong was nowhere to be seen, but nightclothes were laid out on Arthur's bed, so he couldn't have been gone for that long.

Arthur stretched again, laying his embroidery down on the chair he had just vacated. His stomach chose that moment to growl, a reminder that he had indeed missed supper in favor of his needlework. He pressed one hand lightly against it. "I suppose I should go down to the kitchens," he muttered to himself. "Francis won't be there, at the very least."

He hadn't even taken two steps forward before he froze. A shadow had just passed across the floor. He was not alone. He could feel a pair of eyes burning into his back. Arthur's breathing quickened almost imperceptibly. Whoever it was, they were very quiet- he hadn't even heard them come in. Arthur's gaze flickered over to the sword hanging over his fireplace. If he could just make it there… The intruder didn't seem to be making any moves, so perhaps he had a chance.

Arthur lunged forward, shoving the chair behind him. He heard a muffled curse, and then the sound of a body moving after him, but he didn't turn around to see. The sword was right in front of him- he was almost there-

A large hand grabbed him around the middle, pinning his arms to his sides and tugging him back against a solid chest. Another sealed itself over his mouth. Now he could hear the harsh breaths of this unknown man against his ear, and then a voice. "I'm not going to hurt you. You just need to be quiet."

Three seconds of silence passed between them. And then Arthur opened his mouth as wide as he could and bit down on the intruder's hand.

* * *

A/N- I am really, really sorry for the delay in updates. I've been... dealing with some things. But this fic will be finished. It will probably end up having about ten chapters, all of which I intend to write and post up as soon as possible.

Arthur-centric chapter here, because it's high time he showed up. I obviously changed a lot about him. He would definitely not be the innocent, naive Maid Marian of Disney's movie.

For the people here who read Prometheus Rising... Thank you, for everything. I can't tell you enough how amazed and grateful I am for everything you guys have said and done for me. Thank you so much.

I hope you're still enjoying this story, and I love reading the reviews. Thank you, guys.


	4. Chapter 4

Spending the night at Elizaveta and Roderich's house had been an amazing idea. Alfred and Kiku had slept on the floor in the main room, right in front of the fireplace, with an old blanket covering each of them. It wasn't the most comfortable of sleeping arrangements, but the warmth and relative safety of being indoors was something they didn't often get to experience. The life of an outlaw certainly wasn't luxurious.

They had refused breakfast the next morning, despite Elizaveta's protests, and then Roderich's when he returned from his overnight stay at the scrivener's shop. After telling a few more rollicking adventure tales to the children, and pressing a bag of coins into Elizaveta and Roderich's hands, Alfred and Kiku said their goodbyes.

The streets of Nottingham were bathed in morning sunlight. Unfortunately, the two of them couldn't take in the warmth, forced as they were to stick to the shadows. Ivan had already passed by them once, in what was possibly the closest miss they'd had yet. They were just lucky that the poor blacksmith down the street had chosen that moment to hobble out on his broken leg and catch the sheriff's eye. Alfred winced at the sound of Ivan throwing open the smithy's door, but there was nothing he could do. Not yet, anyway. He muttered quick, unheard thanks to the blacksmith before hurrying after Kiku.

That was how they spent most of the rest of the day- dashing from house to house, hiding behind any cover they could find. It would have been far easier just to retreat back into the Forest, but they had a job to do, one Alfred had taken on the moment he turned his back on his bloodline, and one Kiku had agreed to shoulder when they met some months later.

"Excuse me, miss," Alfred murmured, tapping the young woman in question on the shoulder. She turned to look at him and her eyes widened. Before she could speak, Alfred pressed a finger to his lips, and Kiku slipped a few coins into her hands. Her lips immediately twitched up into a watery smile. With a bow, both men vanished back into the shadows.

They never stayed to hear the people's thanks. As far as they were concerned, they didn't deserve them.

By the time the evening began to approach, Nottingham was a town slightly happier than it had been the night before. Alfred reclined back against the wall of the old church at the border of town, running a hand through his hair. Kiku had gone inside to meet with the priest, an old friend of theirs, and so Alfred was left alone to stare over at Nottingham Castle. The two towers rose high above the surrounding castle wall, their flags moving gently in the evening breeze. Faint torchlight flickered from the windows.

Alfred sighed. It was all kind of nostalgic, really, and he wasn't sure whether he liked it or not. Nottingham Castle looked a lot like the castle where he had grown up- the castle that he had abandoned. Well, not completely abandoned. He'd left, certainly, but he hadn't thrown his people to the wolves. Matthew had been there to take his place as duke. Alfred had always known that Matt was more suited for the position than himself, but as the eldest by about ten minutes, it had fallen to him. He wondered vaguely how Matthew was doing.

"Hey, Alfred!"

The familiar voice startled him out of his reverie. Alfred turned to grin at the two men approaching him. "Hi, Gilbert."

"Friar Gilbert has been telling me about the state of his church," Kiku murmured.

Alfred nodded. "So it's been as bad here as the rest of the town?"

"As bad?" Gilbert snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'd say it's far worse. Have you looked at my church? The roof's caving in over the door, the pews up front have cracks down the center, the hinges on the door itself are getting rusty, and that's only the beginning of the list. No one can spare any money. I don't have another job to pay for the repairs, and in these times, no one can hire me." He shrugged. "I've been making do with what I can do myself, but… Well, you can see the results."

"Yeah." Alfred let his gaze sweep across the rundown old church, taking in all the damage and signs of age. "It doesn't look all that bad, actually." That wasn't entirely a lie- though the building was obviously suffering some damage, the repair work was sturdy and seemed to have been done by someone who knew what they were doing.

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Out here, maybe. Inside it looks like a herd of wild horses stampeded through."

Kiku nodded. "It's true."

"Ouch." If Kiku was agreeing, it had to be awful. Alfred stepped a little closer to the building, reaching out to rap his gloved knuckles against some of the repair work. It didn't budge. "Who helped you with this? I mean, you're a good friar and all, but I never figured you to be a carpenter."

"You'd be surprised," Gilbert shot back good-naturedly. "These priestly hands of mine can swing a pretty mean hammer!" He punched Alfred in the shoulder to demonstrate, playfully yet without holding back, and he certainly wasn't lying about his strength. "But you're right. I did not do it all myself. You'll be shocked when I tell you who helped, though!"

There was a moment of silence, in which all three of them stood there waiting, before Alfred prompted, "Well?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "You were supposed to guess. Oh well. Anyway, it was the duke! He showed up here one morning, took one look at this place, and insisted on helping me fix it up." He frowned slightly. "He only managed to help with part of the exterior, though, before that stupid sheriff came up to talk to him."

"The duke?" asked Alfred. He'd heard of the man, of course, and obviously the castle was his, but he'd never seen the duke's face or caught his name.

"Yes, Lord Kirkland," Kiku replied. "What I have gathered from others is that he is well-loved by his people, but that once Francis came here, he started to venture outside less and less."

"Wait, Kirkland?" Turning to stare back up at the castle, Alfred found himself glancing across all the lit windows. Was the duke in one of those rooms? "I remember the old Duke Kirkland. Which one of his sons took over?"

"Arthur," said Kiku. "The eldest rebelled against the family and left, the twins died in the Crusade, and the quiet one went insane and vanished. Arthur was next in line, and then the youngest, whose name I cannot remember."

Alfred chuckled. "The youngest is Peter. He was really little the last time I saw him, probably not even three years old. But he was a nuisance even then." His grin faded slightly as his gaze continued its sweep across the castle. "Arthur Kirkland, huh? It's been a long time since we played together. I wonder if he still remembers me." He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it slightly, and shot his companions a lopsided smile. "Probably not, right? I mean, we didn't know each other that well."

Kiku frowned. "Alfred…"

But the outlaw just shook his head. "Anyway, that doesn't matter. What does matter is that Arth- the duke hasn't been showing his face since Francis got here. Either that means he supports Francis, or he's being trapped in there."

Gilbert raised his eyebrows. "You have a plan?"

"An idea." Alfred's eyes settled on a window far up in the nearest tower. "It's the duke's castle, so I bet that means he has the best, most protected room, right? Probably up in those towers. If I can climb up there and sneak in, I can find out if he's on Francis' side or not. Who knows, maybe we actually have an ally in there."

"Are you insane?" Gilbert grabbed the taller man's shoulders and shook him slightly. "Look at the wall. There are soldiers up there- soldiers loyal to Francis. With swords and bows and pikes."

"Don't tell me Friar Gilbert is afraid of a few soldiers," Alfred said with a grin.

"Afraid?" Gilbert scoffed. "I could take on all of them blindfolded. It's you two that would be holding me back. How could I beat them all while making sure you don't get hurt?"

Kiku stifled a giggle behind his hand, while Alfred laughed outright. "Sure, Gilbert, sure. But I've got a better idea." He gestured for the two of them to come closer.

An hour later, the setting sun found Alfred climbing up the side of Nottingham Castle with the aid of some very well placed trellises and a thick patch of sturdy ivy. Kiku and Gilbert were waiting for him back at the church, with specific instructions of what to do if he did not return by morning. The castle wall had been overcome far more easily than he'd prepared for- the guards were obviously not expecting anyone to try to invade, and Alfred had been able to sneak right under their noses. Only one of them had noticed him at all, a skinny brunet who looked more like a boy than a man, and all he'd done was wave slightly. Apparently some of the soldiers weren't as loyal to Francis as Gilbert had thought.

But now Alfred was drawing closer and closer to the top of the tower, and he hadn't yet found a bedroom befitting the Duke of Nottinghamshire. He hated to admit that he might have chosen the wrong tower, and that all this work had been for nothing, yet it seemed to be the truth.

Alfred sighed as he came upon another window, and he glanced inside almost uninterestedly. At first, there was nothing that caught his attention. Just another room, with a fireplace, a bed, various decorations on the walls, and a blonde man seated in a chair, bent over embroidery. Then Alfred's mind kicked in, and he leaned over for a closer look.

It didn't look exactly like what Alfred remembered a duke's room to be. The bed was covered in normal sheets and blankets, with no surplus pillows. Though there were a few items hanging along the walls, they were not too gaudy. Even the man in the chair was dressed in relatively plain clothing.

The man in the chair… Alfred leaned in closer. He couldn't see much of the man's face, but the hair color, and those large eyebrows- it had to be Arthur. It seemed he still enjoyed the more feminine hobby of embroidery, just as he had in their youth. Alfred tried and failed to suppress the fond smile spreading across his lips.

He had an important job to do, though, and he couldn't let old memories distract him. He didn't even know if Arthur was on his side. Pushing all his fond thoughts aside, Alfred carefully swung himself over the window ledge. His boots were silent as they hit the floor. Arthur didn't look up from his needlework. Well, now Alfred had found the duke's chambers, and the duke himself. All he had to do now was work up the courage to reveal himself. Somehow, all of his natural charisma seemed to be failing him right then.

At that moment, Arthur finally looked up from his embroidery, stretching out his arms and glancing out the window. Alfred froze, but Arthur didn't seem to notice him, instead getting to his feet and turning towards the door. The duke muttered something to himself about leaving, Alfred shifted forward very slightly to try and hear it, and Arthur's whole body tensed.

Alfred stopped breathing for a moment, staring at Arthur's back. He'd been discovered. But Arthur wasn't moving. Alfred's heart raced in his chest- what was the duke going to do?

Arthur suddenly lunged towards the fireplace, shoving his chair back so that it collided painfully with Alfred's knees. The outlaw let out a curse before following, no longer trying to be quiet. Luckily, he was taller than Arthur now, with a longer stride, and he caught up with Arthur before the duke could grab the sword hanging over the hearth. He seized the shorter man with both hands, pinning his arms to his sides and covering his mouth.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he muttered into Arthur's ear. "You just need to be quiet."

For about three seconds, he actually believed Arthur was going to listen to him. Then he felt the duke's lips parting, and-

"Oh hell!" Alfred yanked his hands back, shaking out the bitten one. There were definite teeth marks in his palm. "What was that for?"

"What was that for?" Arthur asked wildly, spinning to face the outlaw with fists raised. "You cannot-" His words died abruptly, eyes widening as they took in the man before them, and his fists fell slightly. "Alfred?"

Alfred knew he must have been imagining the sudden breathiness of the duke's voice, but some part of him really hoped he wasn't, because this was the first real look he had gotten at Arthur, and… Wow. He had really grown up well. Those brilliant eyes were as green as ever, and his eyebrows were still thick, and his hair was still naturally kind of messy, and he still looked slender. Yet though those things had made young Arthur look slightly ridiculous in Alfred's eyes, now they somehow made him look… wonderful? Amazing? Beautiful? Alfred wasn't sure what the right word was, but no matter what it might be, he liked it. He liked it a lot.

"Um," he said intelligently. He coughed and tried again. "Hi."

"Hi," Arthur replied quietly. It might have just been the rosy light of the sunset, but Alfred could have sworn the duke was blushing. "I, um…" Arthur closed his eyes and visibly shook himself. "Alfred Jones," he began again, far more seriously. "What is an outlaw like you doing sneaking into a lord's chambers?"

Good. Alfred was far more comfortable dealing with grumpy Arthur than with strangely attractive Arthur. He cast the duke a charming grin and spread his arms. "I can't just drop in for a visit?"

"Oh please, Alfr- I mean, Jones. You climbed all the way up this tower to my window. You obviously snuck past the guards." Arthur crossed his arms over his chest. "No one does that simply to drop in for a visit, particularly not with someone they have not seen in years."

Alfred sighed. "Call me Alfred. Only Francis and his lackeys call me Jones." He mimicked Arthur's stance, keeping his eyes focused on a spot to the side of the duke's face. "I came to talk, Arthur. Or is it Duke Kirkland now?"

"I-"

Whatever Arthur was about to say was lost on Alfred, for at that moment cold steel was pressed up against his throat. The outlaw froze, eyes wide. Whoever was holding the blade had moved so quickly and silently that not even Kiku would have noticed him. He just hoped that this stranger wasn't in the mood to kill.

Arthur frowned. "Let him go, Hong. I don't think he means us any harm."

The blade moved slowly across Alfred's throat, the tip tickling the edge of his Adam's apple. "Are you certain?" an emotionless voice muttered into his ear.

There was a brief second of hesitation, in which Arthur's eyes flickered up and down Alfred's body- and in which Alfred was incredibly glad that he was so physically fit- before the duke nodded. "Let him go."

Alfred was immediately released, and he looked back to see a dark-haired man slipping the dagger into his sleeve. The man didn't appear to be paying him any more attention, but Alfred had the feeling that if he made one wrong move towards Arthur, that dagger would be embedded in his skin before he could blink. He shuffled a few steps away.

"That's Hong," Arthur said, drawing Alfred's attention back to him. The duke was smirking. "He has been my servant and personal guard since I took over for my father, and he takes his job very seriously."

"I can tell." Alfred let out an awed chuckle. "No one's been able to sneak up on me like that in years."

Arthur's smirk gentled somewhat, almost fondly, before he sighed. "Alfred, what is it you want to ask? Your presence here… It's dangerous for the both of us."

"I only have one question," Alfred replied quietly, his gaze flickering over to the closed door. "What do you think about Francis as king?"

Silence. Arthur blinked at him. "What?"

"I mean, are you for or against Francis?" He hadn't realized the question was so hard to understand.

"I heard what you said!" Arthur barked. "I'm just- What do you think I am, Alfred?"

"I-"

But Arthur didn't let him continue. "Do you think I'm a monster, Alfred? Some sort of power-hungry lord, who would follow an ignorant tyrant just to claim a share of the profit? Is that what I look like to you?" Alfred opened his mouth to object, but Arthur barreled on. "I cannot believe- You honestly think I'm that cruel? That I enjoy my people's suffering? That- That-"

"Arthur!" That stopped the ranting, at least, but Alfred found himself fighting not to shrink away from the glare the duke sent his way. He managed to stay his ground, though he did raise his hands in what he hoped was a peaceful gesture. "I wasn't saying any of that. I just- I had to ask, you know? Because… Well, whether you support him or not, you haven't exactly done anything against him."

"I…" Arthur swallowed heavily, his shoulders slumping. "I know. I haven't done anything." He turned away, the light of the fire flickering across his face even as his eyes fell into shadow. "I suppose I can understand why you would think such things of me. But believe me, Alfred, when I tell you that I do not support Francis in the slightest."

"I believe you." And Alfred did. After a reaction like that, how could he think otherwise? Not to mention the fact that Arthur had apparently helped Gilbert, and that, well… Alfred had wanted to believe him. Really wanted to, from the minute he saw the duke's face. He reached out to grab Arthur's shoulder, squeezing it slightly, and ignored the feel of Hong's wary stare on his back. "I know someone who vouched for you. You know the friar, from the church at the edge of town?"

Arthur relaxed into the outlaw's touch slightly. "The albino? Yes, I tried to help him repair his church."

"He told me about that," Alfred continued with a nod. "That's why I wanted to know. It's just not something one of Francis' lackeys would do." He grinned down at Arthur. "Now that I know you're not evil, you should come with me. Kiku and me could use a man like you."

"Oh, Alfred." Arthur sighed, patting the hand on his shoulder. "You really haven't changed much since we were children. Always thinking of the here and now, never of the repercussions of your actions." He returned Alfred's smile with a smaller, graver one, before looking away. "I can't go with you."

"What?" When Arthur refused to meet his eyes, Alfred stepped around in front of him, bending down in order to try and see beneath the shadow of his bangs. "Why not? Don't you want to leave, if you hate Francis so much?"

Arthur just shook his head, finally meeting Alfred's gaze. His eyes were steely in the firelight. "I won't leave my people to suffer in his hands. As long as I remain here, I can at the very least oppose Francis face to face. If I were to run away into the forest, it would be admitting surrender, and the people would be at his mercy."

Alfred frowned. "But… you would not be running away. If you were working with me and Kiku, you'd be helping them! You'd-"

"I would be running away, Alfred. My people need me here, even if I can do nothing more than be an annoyance to Francis, and sometimes venture out to help individuals. As much as I wish I could disappear into the forest, my sense of duty calls for me to stand firm," Arthur said gently, and Alfred was suddenly reminded of the boy he had known years earlier. The quiet but kind child who loved storybooks and rabbits, who did girly things like sew but who always refused to play the princess to Alfred's prince, and who was never afraid to stand up for what he knew was right. Alfred couldn't help but smile. Arthur's eyebrows furrowed. "What are you smiling at?"

"Nothing." He was lying, and of course Arthur noticed, but neither said anything about it. A strange sort of silence fell over the two of them. It wasn't uncomfortable, but there was something hovering in it, just out of their reach, that made eye contact awkward between them. The light of the fire flickered and sparked across their faces, and Alfred found himself staring at the patterns it made across Arthur's cheeks and neck. The duke's skin was flushed a light pink. Alfred couldn't help wondering if it was as soft as it looked.

"Alfred," Arthur murmured after a while, his gaze centered somewhere around the outlaw's collarbone. "I-"

Whatever he was about to say was cut off abruptly by faint footsteps in the hallway. Both of them were startled out of whatever spell they had been under, and they stood there a moment, just gaping at one another. Hong moved silently over to the door. "You should leave," he said emotionlessly.

Alfred shook himself back into his normal frame of mind- or as close to normal as he could get with Arthur so close. "You mean me?" he asked. Hong nodded.

"Is it Francis?" Arthur asked, a little breathlessly. Hong nodded again, and the duke shoved Alfred back over to the window. "You have to leave now, Alfred."

Alfred struggled against Arthur's insistent pushes. "Wait, I don't-"

"You need to leave," Arthur repeated more firmly, pushing the outlaw backwards until his lower back hit the windowsill. "If Francis finds you in here-"

"What is he going to do?" Alfred argued, though he did swing his leg over the sill to find the ivy foothold he'd used to climb in. "He's already-"

Arthur kept his hands against Alfred's shoulders until the outlaw was safely outside the window. "Yes, well, we don't want him to do anything even worse, do we?" He hesitated slightly, then reluctantly pulled away from Alfred. "You know, I…"

"I know I ran away," Alfred said quietly, reaching out to touch the duke's chin. "I know I abandoned my duties. But I don't regret it, Arthur. I would do it again if I had a chance." Those green, green eyes locked onto his, and all the air in his lungs seemed to vanish. Even Francis' footsteps in the hallway, now much faster and accompanied by a loud voice screaming something at Hong for closing the door, disappeared.

"I… " Arthur leaned forward, resting his weight on his elbows, and smiled softly at the outlaw. "You've grown up well, Alfred Jones."

Something warm and fluttery bloomed inside Alfred's chest, and he found himself smiling back just as softly. "So have you, Arthur Kirkland."

In that instant, the whole world consisted of just the two of them- Alfred and Arthur, smiling at one another through a tower window, the evening breeze ruffling both their hair. It did not matter that Arthur was one of the nobility, or that Alfred was a wanted man. The only thing they cared about was how close their faces were, the way their lips were angled in just the right way that if they met, it would be a perfect fit-

The door slammed open, knocking Hong aside to reveal a furious Francis. "What is going on here?" he roared. And then his gaze swept from Arthur's startled face to Alfred outside the window. His eyes bulged, his face burned red, and his mouth gaped open, but no words came out.

Arthur whirled back towards the window. "Go, Alfred! Before he calls the guards!"

Alfred hesitated for a moment. If he ran, he would be leaving Arthur to deal with Francis alone. But if he stayed, he would likely be captured, and there were people counting on him to stay free. He grabbed Arthur's hand, squeezing it gently, and whispered, "I'll come back, I swear."

"Alfred," Arthur sighed, but the outlaw shook his head.

"I'll come back for you." With that, Alfred began his long descent back down to the ground. Above him, he could hear Francis beginning to shout, screaming at Arthur and Hong and calling for soldiers. Arthur was yelling back, and there was the sound of a chair being thrown and breaking against a stone wall. Alfred winced as the noises grew louder. It took all his willpower not to climb back up there and help Arthur, but he kept descending. Right now he had to return to Kiku and Gilbert, and think up some kind of plan.

But if Francis so much as laid a hand on Arthur… Alfred would make sure he regretted it.

* * *

A/N- Somewhere in the midst of this chapter, my writing abilities took an impromptu vacation, and haven't returned yet. In other words, I'm so so sorry that I took so long to write this, and that it turned out so horrible. I'm a horrible Secret Santa. :P However, this chapter does mark the halfway point of the story- there should only be about four more chapters to go, maybe five if I'm particularly wordy.

Anyway, this chapter was actually written twice. I finished it the first time about a week ago, then read it over and deleted it immediately. Believe it or not, it was even worse than this one.

But thank you so much to all of you who read, reviewed, favorited, and alerted! Seeing one of those notices pop up in my inbox makes my day. The next chapter should be out soon-ish (definitely quicker than this one took), and it will finally have some action! Thanks for reading, and again, I'm so sorry about how long this took.


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